The Comfort in Your Skin
by michaelawaffles
Summary: Brennan struggles with nightmares and with accepting the fact that Booth is not dead after he has been shot. Booth does his best to convince Brennan that he is alive. Post "Wannabe in the Weeds." ONE-SHOT. Rated 'T' to be safe.


**This is my first venture into Bones fanfiction. I've written several (unfinished) pieces for Gilmore Girls a few years ago (*cringe*) and have mostly been an avid reader since I began watching Bones. This summer, I decided to try my hand at some Bones one-shots. This is the first product of that desire : ) Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended; this is for entertainment only!**

Temperance Brennan awoke with a start in the middle of the night, clutching the sheets around her in a tight, white-knuckled grip. Underneath her trembling body, the bed was damp with sweat and she struggled to calm the rapid beating of her heart by taking several deep breaths. "It was only a dream," she repeated to herself several times. "It wasn't real."

But it was real. For an agonizing period of time, Temperance Brennan had believed her partner was dead. The fact that he was back in her life now did nothing to quell the night terrors that had been plaguing her almost regularly since the night he was shot.

She glanced at her clock and sighed. 1:17. She had only been asleep since ten that evening. Knowing it was fruitless for her to try and go back to sleep – she had not yet been able to do so after experiencing one of her night terrors – she got up with a sigh and headed for the bathroom.

After a shower and a cup of hot tea, she felt a little more relaxed. Booth was alive. He had never died. She didn't really lose him. _But he still took a bullet for you_, her brain reminded her forcefully. _You could have just as easily lost him._ Quickly shunning these thought to the back of her mind, she got dressed and grabbed her keys, intent on forgetting.

The sky was still dark when Booth sat up in his bed, deciding to give up on sleep. It was only four in the morning, but experience had taught him that there was no point in even trying to get in those last couple of hours. After a quick shower and shave, he carefully chose the suit he'd be wearing for at least the next thirteen hours, mostly likely longer, and left his apartment.

Brennan knew she should have been more surprised when Booth showed up with coffee for her, exactly the way she liked it, at no later than 5:30 in the morning. Over the years, however, she had come to expect the unexpected visits from Booth. He always seemed to know exactly where she was and what she needed.

"I drove by your apartment and when you weren't there, I picked up some coffee for you," he explained, reading her mind. She nodded slowly and took a sip gratefully.

"Thank you," she said softly.

His eyes raked across her face, noting the slightly grey circles taking residence beneath her tired blue eyes. Her impeccable posture seemed to be weighed down by some kind of unseen burden, as her shoulders sagged in exhaustion. "How long have you been here?" he asked her, gently using his knuckle to raise her face so he could better examine the circles under her eyes.

She met his eyes for a moment before lowering her lashes and releasing a small sigh. "I've been here for a couple of hours," she admitted. She took a step toward the set of remains she had extracted from Limbo upon her arrival and bent down to examine an anomaly she had discovered. Without glancing at him, she could sense his disapproval.

"Bones, you look like crap," he said bluntly. She looked up in surprise, caught off guard by his words and barely stopping to recognize the truth behind them.

"In no way do I resemble any kind of fecal matter," she protested. He took a step toward her with his arms crossed tightly and she stood up straight, crossing her own arms defiantly.

"You know what I mean," he reprimanded. "You look exhausted. Run down. What's going on with you?" She struggled to maintain a neutral facial expression under his concerned, unwavering stare.

"Nothing," she objected evenly. "I couldn't sleep last night and I felt it was unproductive to spend countless hours awake, simply lying in my bed. I figured my time would be better spent catching up on some of these unidentified remains."

His eyes narrowed in concern, easily picking up on the fact that there was something she wasn't telling him. "Why couldn't you sleep last night?"

"Why couldn't you?" she challenged. "You're here at an unusually early time and I know how much you value sleeping in."

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled a half-smile, conceding to her point. Her eyes remained focused on the little upturned corner of his mouth as he spoke. The curved lip seemed forced, as though he wanted to downplay the reason for his sleeplessness. "I couldn't shut my brain off. Too many thoughts." He shrugged again.

"Well of course you couldn't turn off your brain," Brennan explained rationally. "If your brain stopped functioning, then you'd be brain dead. " Booth laughed at her typical, serious response and she felt a blush creep up the back of her neck.

"I just meant I had a lot on my mind and I couldn't fall back asleep," he clarified. "It happens sometimes." Taking a step toward her, he gently took the cup of coffee from her hands and set it on the examination table. Too fatigued to react, Brennan simply watched as he removed the latex medical gloves slowly from her hands. His palms were wide and the pads of his fingers were surprisingly soft, she discovered as they gently brushed against her wrists.

"Now," he said as he tossed the gloves in the trashcan and began to lead her back to her office, "what's going on with you? And don't say that it's nothing because you've been like this for awhile."_Since I've been back_, he thought to himself.

Sitting beside him on the couch in her office, she glanced down at their hands. His were covering her own protectively, his thumb unconsciously rubbing soothing patterns over her knuckles as he willed her to tell him what was bothering her. To trust him. She took a deep breath, trying to decide how much she wanted to reveal.

"Nightmares," she said in a small voice. Disgusted with herself, she cleared her throat and began again in a stronger voice. "I've been having extremely unpleasant nightmares. Once I awake from them, I find it challenging to sleep."

Booth stared at her in concern, gripping her hands tighter. "What kind of nightmares?" he asked, his voice deep with worry. She glanced from their hands to his eyes, which were filled with something she couldn't quite identify. Brennan felt a rush of heat spread through her cheeks and felt her ears tinge pink at the thought of revealing to him the source of her sleeplessness. One of his thumbs came to her cheek to gently brush away the tear she hadn't even been aware was falling. Angry at her body for betraying her emotions, she tried to stand up.

"I don't remember," she said decidedly. One of his hands was still gripping her own as he stood with her. He tugged at her arm and forced her to face him.

"Bones, you don't have to lie to me. You don't have to tell me what they're about if you don't want to, but please don't lie to me. Just tell me they're too unpleasant to talk about and I won't bring it up again."

Brennan felt her chest constrict tightly at his words. She willed herself not to become emotional over the sincerity in his voice, the concern reflecting in his eyes, and the tender way with which he held her hand. _He took a bullet for you_, her brain reminded her again. _He just wants to protect you_. She opened her mouth to begin speaking when a voice interrupted them from her door.

"Dr. Brennan, I have the results of the facial reconstruction from Angela you asked for yesterday on the set of remains for Jane Doe 167," Clark said upon his arrival. "Oh, I apologize," he continued quickly, noticing that he had walked in on some kind of moment fraught with emotion. "I wasn't aware Agent Booth was here."

"Thank you," Brennan said brusquely, extracting herself from Booth's grip and accepting the file from her intern. As she sat herself behind her desk, she gave Clark a set of instructions concerning the anomaly she found on the latest set of remains. As he left to carry out his orders, Booth made his way toward Brennan.

"I have to get to the Hoover," he said, glancing at his watch. "I can't make it to lunch today. Mandatory meeting with Cullen and some other higher-ups concerning, uh, the last mission." Brennan averted her eyes and the mention of his most recent undercover position. "Wanna grab some dinner at the diner around six?"

Brennan hesitated for a moment. "Bones, I promise I won't ask you again about your nightmares. I know you'll tell me if you want to," he said gently. She nodded slowly, letting the warmth and honesty of his eyes temporarily soothe her worries.

"Dinner at six will be fine," she agreed.

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

She almost cancelled on him several times. Every couple of hours, she picked up the phone to call him and tell him she wouldn't be able to make it to dinner. Each time, she had to remind herself that cancelling such a routine meal with Booth would arouse suspicion in him. No, it would be best if she just went to the diner and convinced him that everything was fine.

Even still, she found herself arriving fifteen later than what they had agreed upon.

"Hey Bones," Booth said, smiling at her as she took her customary position across from him, her back to the door. "I placed your order for you. The usual."

"Thank you, Booth," she said, settling into her chair.

Their conversation centered mainly on work, on Parker, on Max, and anything but the real reason why this meal was taking place. For her part, Brennan was not simply feigning interest in Booth's anecdotes about Parker and his latest sports and academic conquests. She loved hearing about 'Baby Booth,' and made a mental note to inform Angela of his recent desire to enroll in a recreational art class.

When their food came to their table, Brennan silently picked at her salad. Her appetite had decreased exponentially since the night Booth had been shot. She could almost hardly believe he was sitting right in front of her, the very picture of perfect, masculine health. Still, after his vivid death being replayed over and over in her dreams the night before, she needed tangible proof. She set down her fork and slid her hands across the table, lightly gripping his forearms.

Booth carefully set his burger down and wiped his hands slowly, as though he was afraid that any sudden movement might scare away her touch. His own hands flexed slowly to interlock around her wrists, physically connecting them in the same way.

"I'm right here, Bones," he said in a low voice. "I'm not going anywhere." Her grip tightened at his words and the sincerity behind them. She willed herself not to cry in front of him, but she found the swell in her throat that usually meant an onslaught of tears. Not trusting herself to speak, she stared at him with watery eyes and a pained expression.

They sat like this for several long moments. His eyes searched her face, taking in the very slight quiver of her chin, the continued swallowing of her throat, the swell of her chest as she struggled to maintain her breathing. It clicked for him then, what he realized he must have subconsciously known for awhile now.

"They're about me," he said. The sudden deathly tight clench around his arm and the almost indiscernible nod of her chin confirmed his thoughts. Guilt suddenly filled his chest as he tightened his grip around her.

"Bones, I am so, so sorry for what that mission forced you to go through. You were absolutely right – I should have called you. I should have broken protocol instead of leaving such an important task to an incompetent twelve year old. I should have made sure you understood."

Brennan bit her bottom lip, pushing her fingers deeper into Booth's flesh. She was grateful in that moment that he had casually rolled his sleeves up after leaving the Bureau. The feeling of his skin underneath her fingertips allowed her the same comfort as being able to touch and examine the bones of one of her skeletons.

"Although I will admit that it was profoundly more painful to experience your death than I had suspected, I will concede that you followed the proper protocol required in order to keep me informed. There was nothing else you should have done; it was wise of you not to risk your mission for me."

Her clinical tone and rational words contrasted heavily against the thin tears falling from her eyes, down her chin. Booth doubted she was even aware of their presence when she spoke. He shook his head slightly in response.

"No, Bones. It was very _un_wise of me not to risk my mission. You're my partner, okay? You should have been informed. I should have called you myself to make sure you knew I was alright. Instead, I let you think that I was _dead – _that I had left you, just like everyone else. I should have known better than that."

A loud clap of thunder drew their attention to the darkened sky outside their window. A storm was about to begin, and from the looks of the sky and the trees bending under the force of the wind, it was going to be a rough one.

"Why don't I drive you back to my place and we can finish this discussion there, Bones? We don't need to both be driving in this weather. I can take you to get your car later tonight when the storm lets up."

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

Booth unlocked the door to his apartment and shook his head. Water droplets flung in every direction from his hair and face, frantically falling to the floor.

"You didn't have to give me your coat, Booth. It doesn't bother me if my hair gets wet," Brennan said, handing Booth back his sodden coat. As a result of the garment, which she had used as an umbrella, her hair and clothes remained relatively dry in contrast to Booth's soaking outfit.

"Sure it does, Bones!" Booth said with a grin. "You never complain about it, but don't think I don't notice when you try to smooth down your frizzy hair after it gets wet." Brennan looked surprised and instinctively brought her hand to her forehead to feel for stray hairs. "Don't worry Bones, I think they're cute," Booth said, reaching up his own hand to smooth the ruffled brown strands away from her forehead and back to their rightful place.

The contact of his skin against hers left a burning sensation where their flesh had connected. Warmth slid from behind her ears down her neck and across her shoulders, and she closed her eyes to marvel at how good it felt to have his fingers graze her face. _He wasn't dead._

Booth cleared his throat and Brennan opened her eyes, stepping back from his touch and removing her own jacket. She followed him into the living room and took her usual seat on the sofa. The familiarity of his apartment comforted her in a way that reminded her of her favorite childhood blanket. She felt reassured. She was surprised when Booth took a seat close to her and set down a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses on the table in front of her, after changing into a t-shirt and sweatpants.

Wordlessly, he poured them each a dose of the golden liquid. He gently tapped her glass with his and looked her straight in the eyes. "I promise that you'll never have to go through that again." The connection was broken only as they simultaneously downed the liquor.

"I'm always too late," she said suddenly. His warm eyes encouraged her to continue as he slid his palm over hers, squeezing almost imperceptibly. "Just a fraction of a second. I see you get shot, over and over. Or stabbed. Or you're falling off of something – a bridge, a building. I see it, and I'm there, and I'm never able to reach you in time. It's infuriating." Her hand held onto his, the fear and sadness lowering the tone of her voice and causing her throat to constrict uncomfortably. She averted her gaze, wanting to avoid the intensity of his expression.

"Bones, look at me. Please." She slowly raised her eyes to his, her mouth quivering softly. "Bones, I _promise_ you that I'm not going anywhere, at least anytime soon. I won't get shot. I won't fall off of anything. And if something _does_ happen to me, I know you'll be there in time to save me. I have faith in you, Bones."

"Faith is an irrational and unacceptable method of assessing my ability to save you, Booth," she protested.

"Maybe. But take a look at our history. Based on the facts in relation to our previous experience with danger, wouldn't it be safe to say that you will be able to save me, should something happen?" His thumb traced reassuring patterns over her skin, urging her to believe him.

"Yes," she whispered softly.

"Then listen to me. Believe me. I promise you, I am not going _anywhere._" To emphasize this, he poured them each another shot. They downed it quickly, wincing as the taste of the liquid burned inside their throats. Brennan set down her glass and moved her hand from his palm to his wrist, and slowly up his arm.

"It helps to be able to touch you," she admitted. He looked as her in surprise, his eyes traveling down her body as she slid closer to him. Her fingers pressed into the crook of his elbows, traveling slowly upwards until they reached the skin of his arm covered by his t-shirt. Bypassing the unexposed flesh, she moved her hands gently to the skin on his neck, pressing gently to assess his pulse. Her breath hitched when her fingers finally came to rest just under his ears, her palms resting on his strong jaw line.

"Bones," Booth whispered quietly, his voice filled with apology. She leaned in close, wanting to feel his warm breath over her lips and skin. "I am right here. Always." Hot tears began to slide down her face, dripping and marking the grey shirt he was wearing. Booth slid his hands up her arms, mimicking her previous actions. "I'm here, Bones. I'm here." Her hands dropped from his jaw to his chest; one palm rested over his heart while the other settled over where his scar was located underneath the t-shirt. Booth slid his hands behind her neck and up into her hair before gently pulling her towards him.

His mouth was warm over hers, and while the kiss was urgent, it was also filled with a kind of tenderness Brennan had never before felt. She pressed her lips to his and pulled him close to her, leaning her body back against the pillow. His tongue glided against hers and she groaned in response. Soon they were fully laid out on the couch, his hard body pressing firmly against her, trapping her between him and the cushions.

When they finally broke apart, Booth inhaled only a second before pressing hot kisses against her jaw, making his way to the skin below her ear. She gasped, and he paused at that spot for awhile, working his mouth over her slowly. Booth then put his lips very close to the opening of her ear and whispered softly, "I will never leave you again." Brennan shuddered and tightened her grip on his body, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. Booth felt her warm tears slide down his neck and he let her cry for a few moments before she pulled back. His nose barely brushed hers as he looked down at her, using his thumbs to wipe the away the moisture from under her eyes.

"Stay with me tonight," he said softly. "I'll be right here if you have any more nightmares. I'll always be right here."

Brennan inhaled slowly and exhaled softly. Shining blue eyes met reassuring brown eyes, both holding each other's gazes and reflecting a combination of concern, love, desire, and protection. "Promise?" she whispered.

Booth kissed her tenderly and she closed her eyes, relishing in the comforting feeling of his talented mouth against hers.

"I promise."

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

**Thank you for reading! I'm really not certain if this will be well-received or not. I have no beta and also haven't written much of anything in quite some time. If you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed it!**


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